


Ex-Something

by clementinedyke



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Character Study, Flashbacks, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, cuz of the safehouse ep, spoilers for ep 46
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clementinedyke/pseuds/clementinedyke
Summary: “THEY don’t want me, and YOU don’t want me but who tha fuck cares? I don’ need any o’ you anyway.”Damien drunk-dials an ex-something.





	Ex-Something

_ I’m sorry. _

 

It was on the tip of his tongue.

 

From the moment Mark picked up the call to the moment Damien's phone flew across the room when he was hung up on, those words were the only thing on his mind he didn’t say.

 

All Mark wanted was an apology. All Damien wanted was some company.

 

He never realized how empty his house was, how quiet. He couldn’t hear his neighbors-  _ feel  _ his neighbors- and it was silent. There was always a buzz before- like if he wanted to, he could reach just a little farther and have the neighborhood on his doorstep. He could feel the consciousness of others- Hell, he still could. But it was quieter now. Damien needed a physical voice to listen to, someone to talk to and talk back, or more, if he was lucky.

 

Damien wasn’t looking for a fight when he called Mark, but he never was.

 

“ ** _They_** _don’t want me, and_ ** _you_** _don’t want me but who tha fuck cares? I don’t need any o’ you anyway.”_

 

Saying it out loud hurt, of course it did. Openly admitting to himself- to Mark- that Damien knew he was unlovable- and that Mark had never felt the same. That Mark  _ couldn’t  _ have felt the same, because he was unlovable. Innately.

 

Ex-something.

 

Not lovers, not partners, not fuckbuddies or friends with benefits or whatever other half-assed terms Damien tried to come up with to categorize their shitty relationship, just… something. They were together, and then they weren’t. There was no breakup, hell they weren’t even technically _an item,_ if you consider how long Sam and Mark had had something going on before- but Damien knew _it_ , whatever _it_ was, was over when he saw the look on his face.

 

When he was on the ground, breathing labored, one eye blotchy with blood dripping from somewhere on his forehead, and the other bruised and swollen shut. When he was on the ground and he couldn’t see. Couldn’t see anything but Mark, standing there, frozen in place with his mouth open and- _God, he looked so broken._

_ Hurt and disappointed and his face was riddled with pity and Damien tried to say something- anything- but his throat caught and he realized he had more blood in his mouth than air. _

 

So it was over, and that was fine because everything is fine when he could have anything in the world just by asking.

 

Except for when he couldn’t. When he was broken and he had  _ nothing  _ and  _ no one understood. _

 

Except for Mark, but he didn’t have that either.

 

That was less fine.

 

* * *

 

“Why are you calling?” _ What do you want? _

 

“ ...Bored.” _ You. _

 

A pause. 

 

“...Okay well, I should get back to it then, so-” _ I can’t keep doing this. _

 

“ Back to what? Drinking yourself into oblivion?” _ Why are you avoiding me? _

 

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” _ It’s not always about you. _

 

“I know you, Mark.” _ This time it is. _

 

Certain words are better left unsaid.

 

If Damien could just apologize- swallow his pride and just  _ say it _ , everything would be fine. That’s what he likes to think to himself when he realizes how entirely not simple the situation is. It’s not fucking easy, and it’s not fucking simple, but no matter how much Damien sleeps or doesn’t or eats or doesn’t or drinks or doesn’t, all he wants is to be able to convince someone to stay for just a little while.

 

He had that. He had it in Mark but he ruined it, like he ruins everything. With dumb, shitty words spilling from his dumb, shitty mouth that he could build an empire with, but that he uses to tear them down instead.

 

So he sits. And drinks. The special kind of whiskey that Mark told him he likes, on the soft days between hotel-hopping and scoping out where to run next. The days when they laid on the too-small, too-firm motel mattresses together and talked in whispers, exchanging useless information as if they were treasured secrets. The days Mark would tell him about his life before the AM, and Damien was content with that and it felt like, just maybe, this was happiness. But then the day passes and they’re back to yelling and crying and secrets and not talking.

 

Damien prays to a god he doesn’t believe in to help him. 

 

If you asked, Damien would tell you he would kill to have his ability back. He wouldn’t tell you he’s scared of his power. His used-to-be power. He wouldn’t tell you that some part of him, larger than he’d like to admit, wishes for it never to come back. For him to never have that crutch to fall back on when he finally realizes,  _ wow, I really am just a shitty human being _ . For him to just act and pretend to be normal and fall in love and not screw everything up and drink whiskey and not be kidnapped by a top-secret section of the US government running human experiments.

 

But he never gets what he wants anymore, and that’s fine.

 

He has a roof over his head (not for long) and food in his kitchen (also not for long) and… a friend. A friend, he guesses. He’s not really qualified to say, but she seems like she cares and she doesn’t know about  _ him _ . About what he’s  _ done  _ and who he  _ is.  _ It felt like lying, but it’s not like she couldn’t see into his head if she wanted to. 

 

He hoped she didn’t want to.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> oh angsty boys?


End file.
